Wishes
by lafantomette
Summary: ...can birthday wishes come true? Post 516: Short Multi-chapter! One chapter every week! Harvey x Donna FLUFF!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is gonna be a short multi-chapters, extremely fluffy.

*For my friend Lau, who I love dearly. Happy B-day!

* * *

As he wakes up alone in his bed squeezing his pillow instead of spooning the woman who was sharing his bed in his dreams, he gets a sinking feeling in his stomach

Since Mike's arrest a few weeks ago, it was like the firm was working on auto-pilot. Most clients broke their contract except for a few who still believe in Harvey's capacity to win their case, mostly because Donna convinced them to do so.

...

[Every night, he hears the clicking of her heels on the floor of his office.]

"Anything else I can help you with, Harvey?" He peels his eyes from whatever contract he's reading, the words on the pages already blurry from the moment he hears her coming from afar. He lifts his gaze and sees her, wearing a dress. A dress that always hugs the curves he once felt under his tongue. He avoids spending too much time admiring her body, it's just pure torture. He focuses on her face, her porcelain skin, her raspberry lips curling into a soft smile after she says his name.

He won't admit it but this simple question makes his heart beat faster each and every time. If only he could say what he really wants, what he's been wanting all these years. If only he could say:

' _Actually yes. Every day when you leave I feel sad and empty. I want you because I love you. Let's go back to my place. Not just tonight, but every night from now on. Please Donna, just say yes…'_

 _..._

He sits on the side of his bed and inhales deeply. Today is her birthday. He should call her.

Harvey Specter had emotional problems. That's why he had asked Scottie if it would be okay to call her after this whole mess.

Meanwhile, there was this woman who had stood by him and never stopped having faith in him… that he never called. Not even on her birthday.

He knows it now, that it would always be easier to call Scottie. His old flame can take him, use him, leave him, and the tiny pinching she leaves in his heart will always be nothing compared to how he felt when Donna left him to work for Louis.

His problem right now is that even if she is back, his heart has been longing for something more. When he had to take one of the biggest decision of his life, he went to Donna. Not his therapist Paula Agard. Not Scottie, the woman he said he would call.

Donna.

He remembers his feet taking him there, his fist knocking on her door. No, he didn't think this through, it was just the natural thing to do because she was the person who always had faith in him and stood by him, and she was the only person he wanted to talk this with. She was special. She was…

The woman he was in love with.

Being in love with her. It had crossed his mind throughout the years, like a possibility or a 'what if'. She made it clear years ago that he wasn't allowed to so he refused to accept the possibility.

But since this realization had hit him, he was now left with a broken heart each and every night she repeated these words to which he could never reply to, asking him if there was anything more she could do to help him. He was too afraid it might destroyed whatever they took years building.

His throat is dry and he licks his lips nervously as he hears her sleepy voice on the other end of the line. "Harvey?" she asks. "It's 8:40. On a Sunday…" She pauses as he struggles with what to say. He is pretty sure _'Donna, I dreamed we had sex and it was fantastic and I love you and can't spend another minute without you_ ' isn't the right way to go.

"Harvey," she says more nervously. "Did something happen? Are you alright?"

"It's your birthday." As soon as the words leave his mouth he realizes how stupid he sounds. He didn't sound happy. He stated it as a fact. "It is," she says. "So why are you waking me up?"

This is it, he thinks. "I wanted to be the first one to wish you Happy Birthday," he tells her, trying to make his tone more cheerful despite the nervousness making him nauseous. "I thought we could drive…somewhere."

"Somewhere…?" She repeats.

"Upstate."

"Are you asking me out on a date?" The tone of her voice isn't accusatory.

"I'm asking you out for your birthday. I think we should celebrate." Okay, he thinks. He avoided the question but it still a honest answer.

"Harvey," she sighs. "First, what makes you think you are the first one wishing me Happy Birthday this morning and why would you think I'd be interested to leave this bed to drive off somewhere with my boss?"

Fuck. He's speechless.

He had been so caught up on coping with his feelings, on finding the courage to finally call her, that it hadn't crossed his mind she might be already celebrating with 'someone else'. Was she still with that douchebag? What was his name again? MITCHELL. Okay, he had never met him but he had sex with Donna and he, Harvey Specter, wasn't, and that was more than enough to officially make him a solid douchebag.

"I'm sorry," he says, not feeling sorry one bit. Most of all, he'd like to drive to her apartment right now and punch Mitchell. Just like he had punched Stephen. It didn't make anything better but it felt good anyway.

"I was hoping…" He thinks for a moment. Maybe he should start being truthful? "I wanted to…" He can't even finish a sentence. How could he talk his way through anything in court but be rendered speechless when it comes to expressing his feelings to Donna Paulsen.

"I'm alone," she says ending his misery. "Harvey. Are you asking me out on a date?"

He wants to ask if Mitchell is out of the picture, maybe he should. But apparently she is the one leading, again. "I am. It's your birthday." he offers. His throat feels so dry and his voice comes out hoarse. "Is Mitchell out of the picture?"

"He is." She exhales into the phone and continues. "Good. I'll be ready at 10. Don't be late," she warns him.

Her voice is calm, warm, accepting. Like she's been expecting this. Maybe she's been waiting for him.

When he hangs up, he feels giddy like a teenager out on his first date.

* * *

It isn't a particularly warm spring day, Donna thinks, as she rolls up the window of his green Mustang.

She was very surprised by his call.

Since she came back to him, she felt something had shifted between them.

He's quicker to acknowledge his mistakes, he opens up more easily…

Still, she was surprised by his call because she thought he had chosen Scottie. Not because he loves Scottie more, just because he had consciously chosen not to love Donna this way. Maybe he wanted sex. This morning, she had opened the door to see him freshly shaven, wearing a blue sweater and grey pants, with black boots. His enticing cologne tickled her nose and he flashed her a big smile as he offered her a big bouquet of roses. She tried making him admit it was a date as it sure did look like one. He avoided it. Again. Blamed the 'date' on her birthday. So maybe she should just expect sex.

Either way, maybe it was her birthday and she could just take whatever he wanted to give her.

After all, the firm was practically dead. She should probably look for another job anyway...

He turns up the volume, singing along with the radio. She always liked the tone of his voice. She had never told him she listened to him singing to his records late at night, but he probably knew, since he never turned the intercom off. She likes to think that all these years, he's been singing to her. She looks at him. His eyes are on the road as he sings:

' _Only darkness every day_

 _Ain't no sunshine when she's gone_

 _And this house just ain't no home_

 _Anytime she goes away'_

He stops singing and glances at her, smiling softly. She feels flustered. "Bill Withers sings the truth you know…" He stops. She can pinpoints the exact moment he builds his walls up again.

' _Why does he always have to stop mid-thought_ ,' Donna wonders.

He focuses on the road again, opens his mouth to speak. She wishes he could just say it, but again, he can't. "I'm glad you came back to me, Donna," he says at last.

He will never have the courage. Never. She knew he loves her but he won't ever risk anything. She practically begged him to risk something and he didn't.

"Ah Fuck…" He mutters under his breath.

She raises an eyebrow. The motor is making some weird noises. "What?" she asks. "Harvey, are we in trouble?" This is a rhetorical question. Clearly, they are.

The motor makes hesitant noises. She ponders how she would like to see a building and not just trees-trees-trees… Why aren't they on a highway? She didn't notice if he took an exit or not. They drove on Palisades Parkway for a while and yes, she is one of those dumb women who enjoys admiring Harvey Specter's jawline while his eyes are on the road. She has no idea where they are.

"Harvey?" She asks again.

"Fuel." He mumbles.

"WHAT?" It comes out like a scream.

"I forgot to fill up the tank…" he mumbles again.

"You got to be kidding me!" she screams again, throwing her hands in the air.

The roaring sound of the Mustang dies slowly as the car halts on the side of the road.

"Wow!" She repeats. "Don't tell me: your secretary books your appointments, picks up your dry cleaning…maybe she should fill up your tank too?"

"I'm sorry." He takes his cell phone. "I'm gonna call the…" His stare is blank as he looks at the screen.

"Don't tell me… No phone signals?"

He shakes his head. "Donna, I'm really REALLY SORRY. I'm gonna walk to the nearest home and…"

"Really? Do you have any idea where we are? This place looks uninhabited. Where were we going anyway? You never told me…"

He removes his seat belt. "A park," he says without even looking at her.

Harvey opens the door, gets out of the car. She sees him grabbing a backpack and then, he walks to her side of the car and opens the door. "C'mon, we're almost there. We can walk."

She doesn't even answer. She just looks at him, waiting.

He tilts his head. "Donna, I have champagne in this bag."

"Wow!" She laughs. "You think I would do anything for champagne, don't you?"

"I surely hope so," he counters with a cocky smile.

GOD. Is he flirting with her? Okay. Maybe this thing he's been avoiding calling 'a date' is 'a date'. She is more intrigued than ever and decides today is his last chance.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks so much for your comments on Chapter 1. As promised, here's chapter 2. Things are heating up! Hope you will enjoy it.

Please leave a comment or review if you read this! It's always nice to know a few people are liking this and I like to hear from you.

-Fantomette (-:

* * *

"Harvey, it's beautiful. Look, we can see Manhattan." Her manicured index is pointing at the barely recognizable city in the distance.

They were lucky enough that a park ranger, who saw them walking on the side of the road in Bear Mountain State Park, had stopped and offered to drive them up Perkins Memorial Drive. 'Your wife will love the view the tower on the summit has to offer', had said the skinny, white-haired, bearded man.

There's a saying that when a wise person points at the moon, the idiot looks at the finger. Well, Harvey Specter is an idiot in love with Donna Paulsen because she's pointing her long finger towards Manhattan and his eyes are caressing her skin, from the tip of her index all the way up her arms, shoulders and long neck. Studying her features, he's wondering how soft the skin of her cheeks would be under his lips…

"Are you alright?" She's looking at him curiously. He can't remember how to breathe properly. It just hit him, that his car is on the side of the road but he isn't angry he's just happy because it means he gets to spend more time with her.

"I think I'm hungry," he recovers. "We should eat."

When they are going down the stairs of the tower, she stumbles a little and his hands grabs her waist, pulling her towards him, her butt hitting his front. He lets go rapidly. "Thanks," she whispers. He doesn't answer. He should not feel so warm after touching a woman, he had touched hundreds of women… What was one more? Dammit.

When they are stepping out of the tower, he's glad the air is cool. He needs it.

"There's too much wind on top," she says. "Maybe we should take a trail in the wood to go down and eat sitting on a rock or dead tree?"

"I brought a blanket," he replies while walking rapidly to a visible trail entering the forest.

She catches his pace and her fingers brushes the palm of his hand. "You brought a blanket but you forgot to fill up the tank of your Mustang…" She snaps her tongue on her palate. "Wow. What were you planning to do again today?" Her voice is silky, teasing him.

He reluctantly puts his hands in his pocket. If he leaves his hands within her grasp two more minutes, her fingers occasionally grazing his skin, he'll drop his bag, grab her and fuck her against a tree. That wouldn't be a…proper first date. She deserves much more than that. He's in love with her. He loves her. But she is slowly driving him crazy.

They walk in silence for a while. They haven't seen anyone except for a few people on the mountain top. Maybe because most people don't want to go hiking when it was snowing only a few weeks ago. After being so warm when he touched her earlier, now he's cold, but still happy. He's with her. She has always made everything in his life so much better…

"Have you called your mom recently?" Her voice resonates in the silence of the forest and he hears his own sighs coming out like an exasperated whine between his lips. So she knows? He didn't talk to his mom for years and Donna drops casually a 'have you called her' like it's something he does every week. She really does read people and she's particularly good at reading him. What was his tell? How did she knows they reconnected? He's intrigued but also talking about his mom is a topic he would have liked to avoid today. But it is Donna's birthday, he decides she deserves answers.

"Yes," he says without slowing his pace, looking straight ahead. "My therapist said it should be the next plausible step before…" He's not going to say it. He's doing so much better at opening up but he can't be a totally different man.

"How did you know we…?"

"You started scratching your wrist, near your left palm again. You did that back at the D.A. whenever she tried to contact you…" She is talking very calmly, careful not to upset him. "I guess things are going fine, I haven't seen you bleed in a few weeks. Healing?"

He remembers she once yelled at him through an argument, accusing him of keeping things from her all the time. He knows how all this was rhetorical since she always could read him like an open book. Yes, he was healing. Agard had been right, calling his mother helped him. It was taxing at first but now he no longer felt this lingering anger inside him.

"I'm meeting her at Marcus's. Next week." He continues after a deep breath. "I'd like you to come."

He wants her to come because he feels stronger when she's standing next to him. She makes him a better man: her having so much faith in him helps him be a better person.

He hears her stop walking behind him and halts his walk. He slowly turns around.

"Why?" she asks. She has the same serious look she had that time he told her he loved her just before leaving her apartment. He hopes he will not screw everything up this time. He is conscious he has a pretty bad record. Obviously, telling her he loves her would just open a Pandora box. She narrows her gaze at him, waiting.

"Because you are the one I want to meet my mother's with." He's being honest. Honest is good.

"What about Scottie?"

He's taken aback by her question, realizing Donna probably got the wrong impression when he told Scottie he wanted to call her after this whole Mike thing.

He wanted to call Scottie to make things "right", to try being friends. At least, that's what he thinks. Because seriously, he told Scottie he wanted to know if he could call her but the only thing on his mind in the past few months (except for the Mike drama) was Donna-Donna-Donna. How he could get her back. How he could make things right with her. How he could make her stay. The more he thinks about it, the more he's sure he didn't want to call Scottie to try a romantic relationship again. The last time was more than enough proof that they were wrong for each other.

"I told you before, Donna. I told you the other night when I came asking you for advice about what to do with Mike…" He takes a step forward but he is still not ready to touch her, maybe he never will be. "When it comes to personal stuff, it's you. Always you." The wind catches in her hair, making a strand falls across her face. It shouldn't: they are in the woods, maybe it's a sign there is a storm coming. But the only thing he sees right now is her. She's beautiful. He pushes her hair off her face with his fingertips grazing her skin and they lock eyes. For a few seconds he's afraid she might leave. He wants to kiss her, to feel how warm her lips would be against his but it might be too soon. He never wants her to leave ever again so he has to make everything right, he has to let her call the shots. She is looking at him the same way she was looking at him on the couch before he ruined everything. He still won't kiss her. Even if he feels she wants to. But this time he won't leave her or run away from his feelings.

"We should eat." He says after a moment. She nods and looks away.

He puts his bag on the ground and opens it. Unfolds the blanket and places it carefully on a dead tree that will serve as a bench. She sits and he sees her shivers. "You're cold?" He sits next to her, his leg pressed against her leg. He pushes his arm behind her back, leaning in, and he grabs the corner of the blanket, then wrapping the blanket around her along with his arm. She leans against him. They haven't been so close in years. Her perfume is familiar, her warmth his familiar, everything about her is what's been missing from his life… Touching. It's something they always avoided. The reason is pretty apparent in his pants right now. Bless this blanket hiding it all.

He detaches himself from her, needing his two hands to open the bag. He gives her a sandwich and opens the bottle of champagne, the cork flying high, making her laugh. He pours the liquid in two plastic cups. "Happy Birthday! Cheers!" He says smiling shyly handing her the plastic cup. She looks happy.

"You make a good sandwich," she admits between bites. "I didn't know."

"There is a lot you don't know about me." He tries to think. Then again, she is Donna, she knows everything. "I sing in the shower."

She rolls her eyes. "Harvey. I know. The Other time. Try again. Tell me something I don't know and I'll meet your mother."

He remembers that night clearly: he was SO HAPPY. He sang a really happy song in that shower. Not only he just had the best sex of his life he had found an incredible woman so yeah, he sang a cheesy song in the shower. And apparently, she heard him.

He finishes his sandwich and pours more champagne into his glass before taking a long gulp. He suddenly realizes she knows everything about him NOW.

"The first girl I slept with was Clara. I was a few weeks short of sixteen. We were in my basement watching a horror movie. It lasted a total of two minutes, including me pulling down and up my pants. I offered her milk and cookies afterwards. "

She starts laughing uncontrollably, so much that she has tears falling on her cheeks. "I imagine the whole scene. Harvey! How did you become New York City's best closer? Oh Right: You offered her cookies afterwards. Smooth move, Harvey!"

"Here's a cupcake," he says not missing a beat, opening a little box.

"Do you woos all the women by offering sweets?" She wrinkles her nose in distaste. "Okay. Don't answer that." He bites his lips, stopping himself from making some sexual innuendo.

He plants a candle in the middle of the chocolate cupcake and ignites it cracking a match. Her face goes serious. "Make a wish," he whispers turning his body to face her. If only he could read her mind and grant her what she wishes for. She closes her eyes and gently blows on the candle.

"It's nice that you did all this for me," she says grabbing the bottle of champagne to pour herself some more. She meets his gaze and she smiles. She smiles just for him. He shrugs like it's no big deal but inside he feels like there are firework waiting to explode. "I told you, I'm more sentimental than you think."

He's unable to hold her gaze and he focuses on the plastic cup in his hands. "Donna," he says in a low voice. "Thanks. For never losing faith in me. I certainly didn't deserve someone like you having so much faith in someone like me."

She's always been there.

He remembers that session with Doctor Agard when it hit him: he was the one who pushed Donna away the minute she wanted more. He dares lifting his eyes and the first thing he focuses on is her lips. He wants to kiss her so much it makes him dizzy just thinking about it. He then sees her eyes. He can't pinpoint the way she's looking at him. Is it sadness? Hope? Love?

He hears the sound of raindrops on the fresh spring leaves before he feels the cold wetness on his skin. "We should pack," he says getting up and folding the blanket. She gets up and downs her plastic cup of champagne, handing him the bottle that was still in her hands and he drinks straight out of it making her laugh again. He think it's crazy how every time she laughs it makes him so happy. It beats winning any big case.

They start walking and the rain starts pouring even more heavily.

"The sky was clear an hour ago!" He whines between his teeth. Donna is going to be cold and maybe sick, that date might make it on her list of 'worst date ever'. When they finally reach the Inn he sees she is shivering uncontrollably and her hair is dripping wet. He feels his undies are as wet as if he had swim fully clothed in a lake. He opens the door for her and once inside she grabs his hand. Her fingers are cold between his. She stops him before they reach the desk.

"Harvey. We should sleep here."

He studies her. She's serious. Still, he can't believe she is asking for… What the hell is she asking for? Maybe he slipped and his head hit a rock and he's dreaming in a semi-comatose state. It wouldn't be the first time he dreams about Donna wanting to have sex with him. He swallows the lump in his throat. Maybe she means as friends? Just for the practical side of it?

"Donna. I could call Ray and…"

"Harvey…." She draws patterns in his hands and pulls him closer, her other hand closing around his wrist. She couldn't be clearer and his cold, soaked undies couldn't be more uncomfortable right now that he feels like fire is running through his veins.

Her breath is warm against his skin as she speaks softly, her cheek against his cheek: "Harvey, I'm cold. You're warm. We should sleep here."


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:** Hi! Sorry for the delay. Oh btw, it gets dirty:finally some Darvey-action (been waiting forever on the show...sigh). Well, you've been warned about this chapter ok._

 _Please if you read this fic, leave a review it always makes me happy to read your comments (-:_

* * *

She never told anyone.

She won't ever tell anyone about this, not even Rachel, but she's been repeating the same wish, on every birthday, for the past thirteen years.

She still doesn't know why she waited so long for him and gave him time to tame his demons… Maybe because he's a good man. He's worth it. He always treated her right. She always felt protected by him and she knew he would never let anything happen to her. He provided her with everything she needed, except for one specific thing he only gave her ONCE.

His hand is shaking as he tries to open the door to the hotel room. She wonders if it's because his clothes are wet and he's cold or because he's nervous. The door opens on a cozy room, warm and comfortable. Nothing like a five stars hotel in Manhattan but it definitely has its charm.

"Let's put on bathrobes and then I'm going to call the front desk so they can pick up our clothes and wash and dry them." He walks to the closet and opens it, taking out two white, plushy, bathrobes.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all, he's ignoring the elephant in the room like he always does. She doesn't know what to do with herself, she decides against sitting on the bed, fearing her wet clothes would dampened the cover. She stands up in the middle of the room, awkwardly waiting for him to hand her the bathrobe.

"I can make coffees," he tells her while handing her the robe, avoiding her gaze.

"Actually, Harvey, I need help." She talks slowly so to make sure he catches every single word. "I need help getting out of these wet clothes."

He doesn't move one bit. Doesn't even blink. He just looks at her. She's within reach, he could grab her and kiss her, just like in the movies, just like she imagined a thousand times. But he doesn't. She knows him all too well but for once in her life, Donna Paulsen can't read Harvey Specter.

After a moment he says:

"Donna…I don't want sex…" His voice is sad.

She's mortified. Her heart is breaking and her stomach is lurching. She thought he was ready and only needed a little push.

He shakes his head and after a beat he continues in a low, serious voice. "I'm in love with you." He adds. "If you are only looking for sex I don't think I can s…"

She stops him with her lips crashing on his. He clearly doesn't know what to do with his hands at first, as she feels them softly brushing against her sides. She grabs his neck, pulling him closer and he moans against her mouth, his hands suddenly rounding her waist. It's surreal. Their bodies are cold under the wet clothes and he pushes his hands under her sweater, helping her getting out of it. She pulls his sweater and the fabric is sticking to his skin. He presses his bare chest against her and their naked skin is warmer than the clothes were. It feels good, so good, as his tongue slides sensuously against hers, making her toes curl. They stumble to the bed and she sinks into the mattress. He stands between her legs, trying to pull her pants down but the wet jeans are sticking to her body. He tries delicately at first, then pulls more firmly on the fabric. He lets out a few shaky breath. "Donna," he says his voice unsteady. "Please…" She can't help but smile at the frown of panic he's harboring. She folds her legs and removes her pants and undies in one swift motion. She then sits on the bed and unbuttons his pants. She feels him shivering under her touch.

"Is this going to last a few more minutes than with that Clara in your parents' basement?" She teases him her fingers grazing under the elastic of his boxer briefs. She struggles with pulling his pants down and he laughs, helping her. "You know I've gotten really good at this, much better than my teenage self," he says before she wraps her hand around his length, making his breathe hitch audibly. He closes his eyes and tangles his fingers in her hair as she moves her hand up and down his erection. He digs his fingers in her scalp and mouths "stop". Her hand leaves him, and she grabs his hand, pulling him on top of her and he pushes deep inside her, not waiting. She wraps her arms around him, she finally feels warm and complete, the loud thump of his heart resonating in her own ribcage. She lets herself go completely, surrendering to the way he kisses her, his mouth firm and demanding. She loses track of time as he angles her face with his hand against her cheek, deepening the kiss. She extends a leg against his stomach, ankle on his shoulder as he moves deeper inside her, his breathing rasp and shallow. She tilts her hips to meet him, feeling every one of his muscle tensing as she nears the edge too. They reach orgasm both clutching each other's body, afraid of letting go, realizing how much they've missed each other's touch for all those years. She is sure she heard him moaning her name and her heart is beating so fast, it might explode at any moment.

He rolls on his side and catches her hand, automatically linking fingers. She's pretty sure it will be hard to let go of each other. She doesn't want to anyway. He is still trying to catch his breath.

"Best five minutes of my life," she claims teasingly. He chuckles next to her. "Well, that's better than with that girl when I was 15!" His voice is tired and hoarse. "Way better in fact. Everything with you has always been…"

"Don't get mushy please," she whispers squeezing his hand. "I'm glad we finally did it."

"I'm sorry for everything else that went wrong. I'll make up for it. We'll go shopping for handbags, then brunch and we'll go back to my place to have sex." He leaves a kiss in her neck. "Then watch a movie. Have sex. Again." His short breaths are tickling her neck as he presses soft kisses. All this feels good, and right.

"The office is pretty empty these days…" she whispers, curling up into his arms, her lips leaving a trail of soft kisses on his shoulder, inhaling his scent.

"Sex at the office?" He looks surprised. "Wait. Was that what you wished for your birthday?"

She hooks a leg around one of his leg and caresses his torso, wondering how you can spend so many years not touching someone but yet, when you finally do, it feels like the most natural thing ever. Like she always belonged in his arms, his lips kissing her hair, his fingers between her fingers.

"My wish was for you to stop being a goddamn idiot."


End file.
